Rush Hour Rambling

Weather: Sunny and wonderful; a perfect Summer’s day.

Some days, it’s hard to choose between them.

Poor Frogwing. He used to be the only motorbike I needed. He can do anything within the legal realms of riding performance, and when the going gets weird, he has the capability to get us out of any situation we have yet encountered. I’m proud of his battle-scarred appearance, and only wash him a couple of times a year.

He really is the best motorcycle I have ever owned, and we were constant companions until scooters came into my life.

Nowadays, I don’t think I ride him even half as much as I used to. When it comes time for my daily commute, Scarlet is just too easy. No, she’s not like that! What I mean is, all I have to do is sit on her, rather than climbing aboard, like I do on Frogwing.

Scarlet is lighter by almost a hundred pounds. All I have to do is twist that throttle, and away we go! There’s no mucking about with clutch and gears and standing on my tiptoes at the stops. Easy.

I used to think Frogwing was so economical, with his 55 miles per gallon. Then I entered the scooter world where 70 and 80 miles per gallon are commonplace. Yet another weight to add to Scarlet’s side of the scale.

So I walk out to the garage every weekday morning, still kind of groggy, with the coffee not yet kicking in. The garage door opens and I have to decide whether to sit down on Scarlet, or hike a leg up over Frogwing’s high saddle. Again… Easy. What on Earth is happening to me? Is this what Getting Old is like?

To add insult to injury; the one time last week when I did ride Frogwing, was because it was raining. I didn’t want to get Scarlet’s pretty paint all wet. How sad is that!? Of course, if the streets down by the river had flooded, like they did last year, Frogwing’s high ground clearance and sealed airbox are perfect for fording such obstacles.

So I guess that wasn’t an insult after all, but a compliment to his tactical prowess. Yeah… that’s it.

Okay, so I’ve taken eight paragraphs to tell you that I am riding Scarlet an awful lot now and leaving Frogwing parked in the garage. They are only machines, after all, and they have no feelings to hurt. (I hope…)

In my last entry, I said that something has got to change. My aggressive riding was going to get me into trouble, if I kept riding the same route and pissing off the same cagers, day after day.

The aggression comes from knowing every pothole, every crack and ripple in the pavement of the roads you ride over and over again. Just like a racetrack, there is no challenge but in going faster, and that is where I get into Trouble.

So I decided to make good on the original premise of this blog, which was to Ramble during Rush Hour.

Ramble, as opposed to Wander.

If I were to wander, I would just ride away from work in the general direction of home, taking roads I had never seen before, guided only by my internal compass.

Rambling, to my mind, is a different proposition. To Ramble, you must simply get to your destination by an indirect route, preferably taking in some points of interest along the way. It was in that spirit that I devised, over my lunch hour today, the first of what I am going to call “Ramble Plans”.

Ramble Plan Number One was executed this evening. I think I’m going to call it the “Como Cruise”. I used Mapquest and Google Earth to scout it out in cyberspace, and printed up a route sheet to take along with me. The ride was way better than I expected, but I will tell you all about that in the next entry.

Let me just say this: When I am riding unfamiliar roads, I don’t mind the traffic near as much. There is no pressure to take the perfect line around an upcoming curve. There is no need to achieve The Flow. On these strange roads, I am a tourist again. There are new sights to see, and I’m in no hurry to get home.

Finally I am getting to the heart of this thing. It sure took me long enough.

Weather: Storm clouds gathering…

Scarlet O’Baron, in her new red paint job, down by Mill Ruins Park.

Yes, I like to play with Photoshop once in awhile. This shot was taken too early in the morning, in too much cloud cover, to present the dramatic effect I was looking for. So I cropped it and `Shopped it, as they say in the photography business.

My Krylon Fusion Chili Pepper Red spray-can paint job came out pretty good, didn’t it?

I got tired of waiting around for a shipment from China that might have Scarlet’s new red bodywork in it, so I decided to fall back on another of my artistic skills. The new paint doesn’t have the gloss of the factory job yet. I have to wait a few weeks before I can really buff it out. By then, maybe my color-matched factory stuff will be here, and I won’t have to.

But what does all this have to do with Balance and Flow? I’m glad you asked.

Mill Ruins Park is one location where the flow of my daily ride merges with the flow of the Mississippi River. It is a decision point where I have to balance the need to get where I am going, with the need to take a deep breath and appreciate the beauty that I ride through every day.

Some days I stop, but most days I don’t.

The demands of work and family weigh heavily on me, during these waning days of summer. Why is it that management is at the peak of their ambition during the very same season that our families are clamoring to take a vacation? Is this a test of our dedication?

I can’t go too far down this road. Management reads this stuff sometimes…

When the demands of others take up nearly all of our waking hours, what time do we have for peace of mind and quiet reflection? Other than the hours in which I should be sleeping, the only time I have is during my commute. This is where a motorbike really shines.

Cagers spend their commuting time listening to commercials on the radio, yakking on their cellphones, and just generally filling their heads with noise so they don’t have to think about what a rut their lives have become.

But when I’m out there riding, I am living in my world. I am seeing the sights, smelling the aromas, and hearing what is really happening all around me. In order to experience this, I must be exposed to it. That is the key. Of course, there is always danger in that. But it is a risk that I must take, if I am to achieve any kind of balance in my life.

Now let’s talk about flow. Most experienced riders, from roadracers to cruisers and scooterists, know all about “the flow”. It is that exalted state where, not only are you “one with the machine”, but you and your machine are also one with the road.

You are usually alone, or with another rider you trust completely. You enter a series of turns, and take them at the perfect speed; one which challenges your skills but doesn’t overtax the machine. You flow from one turn to the next, and it all feels so natural and so right.

This goes on until other traffic intrudes. Then the spell is broken, and you have to deal with other people again. Fellow humans. Love thy neighbor? Not on the mean streets, baby.

The River Roads that I travel to work are still pretty clear in the mornings. I achieve The Flow pretty often, and always appreciate it when it happens. But the evening commute is becoming more and more hectic everyday. People are finding our overcrowded freeways completely untenable, and using technology to find these roads which took me years of trial and error to discover.

They come down there in their bloated SUVs and vicious muscle cars, and they bunch up in bumper-to-bumper clusters, as was their habit on the gridlocked freeways. When I am riding Frogwing, I find this irritating, to say the least, and do whatever I can to get around them.

But they all have cell phones, and eventually The Authorities are made aware of this crazy dirt-biker who passed up a whole line of cars on the grassy verge of the riverside park. So the next few evenings find the entire length of that road staked out by Minneapolis police, in cruisers and on motorcycles.

They don’t harrass the guy in the Aerostich jacket on the little red scooter. He doesn’t even show up on their radar. Funny how that works…

But of course, you can only get away with stuff like that for so long. Not long at all, if you broadcast it all over the Internet like I am doing here. What the hell am I thinking?

Well, I’m thinking that I have got to find some different routes home. I’ve got to do more Rush Hour Rambling, even if it means that I won’t be home in time for dinner. Let’s face it: when riding home from work becomes a combat operation, Daddy isn’t going to be in any condition to sit down to a nice family dinner when he gets home.

Something has got to change.

Weather: See for yourself…

The view from the High Bridge, about 6a.m. on a rainy Friday morning.

This entry is all about the photograph. I was riding to work last Friday morning, crossing the High Bridge on Smith Avenue, when this scene stopped me in my tracks. That’s the beauty of riding a motorbike; you can just pull over to the side and park when you see something like this. Had I been driving a cage, I would have been blocking traffic on the bridge.

I got the camera out and steadied it on the railing, high above the Mississippi River, and made this shot as the isolated rain shower centered over downtown Saint Paul. This is probably the best landscape image I have ever captured, and it happened during my commute.

Just another reason why I love riding to work.